


Charades and Shadows

by Sashataakheru



Category: The Chaser RPF
Genre: Death, Epilogues, Ghosts, Hauntings, M/M, making amends, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-05
Updated: 2007-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months later, Craig visits the others to make amends. Craig needed closure. I did not! You needed closure! Alright, fine. I needed closure. Whatever.</p><p>Apologies for the weird format and extreme length. It refused to be separated and written any other way. I choose to take the easy way out and blame Craig mercilessly for this. So there. *nods* </p><p>An epilogue to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7819297">Pictures of You/Lovesong</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Charades and Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Craig’s thoughts and speech in italics to differentiate it from actual spoken words. Um, Charles was not supposed to be all angsty like that. :/ I don’t know what’s brought that on. He doesn’t want to tell me what’s wrong, nor does he want to tell Craig, apparently. O.o Information regarding the flower meanings in Earth sourced from a site that is no longer online go me. And yes, I realise the irony of having parts called 'zero' and 'infinity' and giving them word counts. I know, alright? :P

Zero  
There was a loud bang like an explosion going off in his head. Then blinding pain that disappeared as soon as it had appeared. Then nothing. Nothing at all. There was no tunnel, no angelic music, no fucking light shining out to him like a beacon. There was nothing. It was dark, cold, and empty. Craig was by no means the most religious of people, but he thought the afterlife, assuming there was one, would be a bit more… substantial.  
  
It felt like he was floating underwater. He was trapped in nothingness, unable to move. Too shocked to move. Was this it? Was he dead? _Really_ dead? It was so… final. He wasn’t even conscious of pulling the trigger. He was yelling at Julian and then – nothing. He thought he should at least be looking down at his body, seeing Julian and Chas huddled over him or something, but no. There was nothing.  
  
Once the shock had receded and Craig got used to the fact that he really was dead and that panicking would not make him alive again, vision of the world returned, albeit slowly. He was back where he died. He wept, lost for anything else to do.  
  
Spirit  
Craig watches from the doorway. Dom’s meditating. This is the first time Craig’s been to see any of them since he died. He can hear everything they say when they’re at his grave, but away from that, it’s different. Or at least it was different. Finally ready to make amends for being a crazy jealous little shit, he’s free to visit them now and interact with them to a limited extent.  
  
Unsure how to go about reaching him, Craig wanders into the room and sits down in front of him. He goes to rest a hand on his, but finds he can’t touch anything even though the floor is, for all intents and purposes, solid. Walls are a different matter, of course, but walls don’t matter when you’re dead.  
  
_“Dom. Can you hear me?”_ Craig says in his first attempt at contacting the living friends he left behind.  
  
‘Yes. In my head. You’re loud, you are. Come back to see us at last, I take it?’ Dom remains seated, his eyes closed, his thoughts, his words, emanating from him and echoing around the room.  
  
_“Yeah. It’s time I made amends. Sorry for ignoring you. I honestly didn’t know how you felt about the whole thing.”_  
  
‘What’s done is done. How are you? Are you at peace?’  
  
_“I am now. I had… a lot of shit to get through. Being dead forces you to work out where you fucked up in life.”_  
  
‘You fucked up a lot, you did. You and Chris, both. He hasn’t been the same since you died, you know.’  
_  
“I know. I’m gonna see him last. I have a lot to say to him. Are you gonna be alright?”_  
  
‘We all survive in our own way.’  
_  
“I know. Good luck.”_  
  
Craig gets up and leaves Dom alone.

Air  
Julian reads, lost in his book. Craig watches, leaning against the windowsill. He isn’t used to their new house, even though he’s been watching them for a while now. Craig almost misses the warehouse, but Chris had insisted they move. The warehouse contained too many bad memories. Julian had agreed because he could see how cut up Chris was about the whole thing. He had to be forcibly removed from Craig’s room the day they moved. It had been left to Julian and Dom to keep everyone relatively sane, not an easy task when Chris insists on isolating himself out of guilt and grief, Andrew refuses comfort from anyone but Chas, and Charles blames the others for sending Craig to him when he was in no condition to look after him properly.  
  
Craig looks down, reading the book as he watches. He wants to touch him, to reach out and hug him, but he knows he can’t. Julian looks out the window for a moment, as if searching for something he thought he saw, but he doesn’t see Craig, and he returns to his book.  
  
_He looks so old. Older than before. Why does he feel this is his fault?  
  
“Julian. Can you hear me?”_  
  
Julian looks up again, eyes still searching. “Must be the breeze,” Julian mutters and continues reading.  
  
Craig leans down next to Julian’s ear, wondering if this will help him be heard. _“Julian. Can you hear me? It’s me, Craig.”_  
  
Julian looks up again. Had he really heard what he thought he heard? Or was he just hallucinating? “Craig?” he says hesitantly.  
  
_“Yes. It’s me. You can hear me?”_  
  
“Barely. You sound like the wind. I wasn’t sure I’d even heard you.”  
  
_“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to hear me.”_  
  
“If I didn’t know your voice so well, I’d have though I was going mad. Why are you here?”  
  
_“To leave you something.”_  
  
“Oh yes? Like what?”  
  
_“An apology. For being a selfish little shit.”_  
  
At his words, there’s a gust of wind from the seemingly closed window and a largish white feather floats onto Julian’s lap. “A feather? What am I supposed to do with this?” Julian says, picking it up.  
  
_“Cherish it. Being dead gives you thinking time, you see? I wish I’d had the courage to tell you what had happened before things spiralled out of control. I’m sorry.”_  
  
“I did my best to get you to open up, but you refused. I could see it eating away at you. Your eyes told me there was such utter conflict hidden beneath that shell of yours. When you swore revenge, that’s when I knew I’d been too late. I should’ve gotten to you sooner. Then perhaps what happened wouldn’t have,” Julian says, twirling the feather between his fingers.  
  
_“I’m sorry. I gotta go now. You look after yourself. Good luck, Jules.”_  
  
Craig can’t bring himself to say goodbye. It’s too final. Instead, he steps backwards from the window and watches Julian some more.

Flesh  
Chas lies on the grass outside staring up at the dark clouds in the sky. A storm’s approaching, but Chas appears not to notice. He’s listening to music, finding a state of mind somewhat akin to meditation as he lies there. The wind picks up, making the leaves dance around. The air is cold, but Chas doesn’t care.  
  
Craig stands a way off, watching, a small canine skull clutched in one hand. He smiles at Chas’ awful singing. It was one of his endearing qualities. Chas always seemed so carefree about everything, nothing seemed to bother him, but when you needed him, he was there by your side to either cheer you up or tell you why things could be so much worse than they seemed. Alternatively, he could bore you stupid for an hour talking about whatever random topic turned up in his head at that point in time. He had a way of fixing things without you realising he’d fixed them. Besides, it’s hard not to be cheered up when he comes bounding into the room. Everything seems better when he’s around. His endless energy is contagious.  
  
Craig walks towards him, wondering if he can see him. He lies down beside him, gazing at his nonchalance in the face of the coming storm. The deep murmuring of the thunder in the clouds permeates everything. Even though Craig can’t feel anymore, that energy sends shivers down his spine. The electricity in the air is waiting to be released.  
  
_“Trying to get yourself killed?”_ Craig says, wondering if he can even hear him through his music.  
  
“That you, Andrew?” Chas says, thinking he heard someone speak, but being unable to work out who it is. He pulls his earphones out, trying to hear if there’s anyone else around.  
  
_“It’s me Craig. Can you hear me?”_  
  
“Andrew? Stop messing with me,” Chas says, sitting up to see if he isn’t alone. “Hey, come here Andrew!”  
  
_“I never got time to say thankyou, Chassy. For sticking by me when everyone else abandoned me,”_ Craig says, regardless of whether Chas can hear him or not.  
  
“What the fuck are you playing at, Hansen? Quit whispering to me like that!” Chas says.  
_  
“It’s not Andrew. It’s me, Craig. Take this and remember me,”_ Craig says, depositing the skull in Chas’ hand in a bid to get his attention.  
  
“ _Craig?_ Jesus, what the fuck are _you_ playing at? What the fuck am I supposed to do with a skull?” Chas says, glancing down at the skull.  
  
_“Throw it at Taylor when he’s being a pest?”_ Craig suggests.  
  
“Yeah, sure, if he’s ever around to annoy me,” Chas says.  
  
_“What, he’s gone and disappeared on you all, has he? Bout bloody time.”_  
  
“Ever since you died, he changed. He’s been distant. No one can get near him anymore. A few days after you died, he and Andrew had a huge row. They’ve been avoiding each other since. I don’t know the details of the fight, but they blamed each other for what happened. Since then they’ve barely spoken two words to each other. Even at your funeral, they didn’t speak to each other. Andrew came to me afterwards, and Chris shut everyone out. He spends a lot of time at your grave, or so I hear. We’re lucky if we see Chris twice a week. Most of the time, he’s nowhere to be found. Julian said he and Dom had found him back at the warehouse a few weeks after the funeral. Apparently, he’d been sleeping there for a week. In your old room, I might add. Chris ran away before Julian and Dom could grab him though.”  
  
_“Shit. I didn’t realise he was that cut up about it. How have you been?”_  
  
“Intermittent. Andrew’s angry at you and Chris for being such dickheads. I’m the lucky one Andrew takes his anger out on. It’s… not that easy to deal with. Andrew was always on your side, you know. He was so angry at Chris for how he handled you.”  
  
_“I… didn’t realise. I was too angry at him for stealing Chris from me.”_  
  
“Go talk to Andrew.”  
_  
“I will. Later. Thanks for looking after him.”_

Fire  
Charles feels strange being back in Australia again. Maybe that’s because America is such a strange place that Australia seems normal in comparison. Or maybe he’d just gotten used to America and being home again required him to adjust again. He’d arrived in such surreal circumstances. He got a frantic call from Chas saying that Craig had gone psycho and had tried to kill Chris and Andrew, but had ended up killing himself instead, and Charles should come back as soon as possible. It seemed unreal. Charles spent an hour trying to get his head around what had happened before he called back and got a somewhat saner explanation from Julian.  
  
He rushed back as soon as he could. All the reasons behind Charles moving away in the first place were forgotten. Julian embraced him with open arms. Andrew clung to him, glad to see him again. Charles didn’t move into their new place with them though. He was content to stay nearby.  
  
The funeral had been … weird. With Chris and Andrew refusing to acknowledge each other’s existence, the air was filled with tension. Craig hung around, lost for anything to do. There was anguish. There were tears. Craig didn’t want them fighting at his funeral, but he was powerless to reconcile them. Charles, too, felt oddly out of place. Maybe he’d been away too long. Once it was all over, Chris, and Andrew and Chas, went their separate ways. Julian was left with Dom and Charles. Craig hated seeing them so divided. The very time in which they should be coming together, and they’ve been ripped apart.  
  
Craig was beginning to understand why suicide was such a selfish thing to do. It was the reason they were all so divided. Everything he did leading up to that night was all driven by selfish idiocy. Mentally unstable selfish idiocy, if Craig was being honest. He really had gone a bit crazy in the head. Everything he did that night made sense to his mind. Why the fuck did he think that killing himself was the best way to deal with the situation? Fuck, he hadn’t been able to kill Chris and Andrew. Sure, he’d shot them, but he’d hesitated and the shots fired were very much non-lethal. Firing a gun at people he actually cared about with the aim and intention of killing them was terrifying and not something he was ever prepared for, in spite of his desperation for revenge.  
  
Abusing Charles’ hospitality once he got his idea for revenge is something Craig wants to atone for. Charles had done his best to help him, but Craig pushed him away. He’d been moody, argumentative, hell, he’d frequently come back drunk early in the morning. Charles had been better to him than he deserved, had been there in spite of how difficult Craig had been, only once yelled at him, even though Craig thought he had every right to yell at him a lot more than that. Charles deserved better than the way Craig treated him, and it’s time Craig faces up to him at last.  
  
He finds Charles sitting on his bed, staring at the floor. _Why is everyone so obsessed with shutting themselves in their rooms, for fuck’s sake? Have they all fucking gone emo on me?_ Craig stands in the doorway, staring in at him, largish rock in one hand. Craig walks over to him and kneels in front of him, looking up at him.  
  
_“Charles, you alright?”_ Craig says, resting the rock on the ground. He wants to touch him, but he can’t. He notices Charles is crying. _“What are you crying for? Can you hear me at all?”_  
  
Charles sniffles and wipes his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He doesn’t appear to notice Craig at all. “Why the fuck do they do this to me? I’ve done enough grovelling to earn their forgiveness a thousand times over. What more do I need to do? Fuck, Julian, I’ve offered everything I can think of but it’s never enough. I should never have come back. I’m still as cut off as I was before. Bastards,” he says quietly.  
  
_“Charles? Can you hear me?”_ Craig tries again, leaning in closer to his ear to see if it improved things.  
  
“Wha-? W-Who’s that?” Charles says, looking up, surprised to hear what sounded like a voice in his ear.  
  
_“It’s me, Craig. Can you hear me?”_ Craig says.  
  
“Craig?” Charles pauses. “No. No, I’m going mad. I’ve been in here too long. I’ve started hallucinating. Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he says.  
  
_“You’re not going mad. It’s really me. Why are you crying?”_ Craig says, even though he kinda already knows.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it. If that’s really you, you probably already know. And you, fuck, what the fuck did you do? Christ. You went mad, just like I was afraid you would do. Why does no one listen to me? I warned Chas about that just after you arrived. Fuck. This is so messed up. I’m talking to a ghost. Fuck off and leave me alone. I’ve got enough bad memories to deal with,” Charles says, pressing his palms against his eyes, trying not to cry again.  
  
_“Charles?”_ Craig says tentatively.  
  
“I said, fuck off, Craig. You’re just a hallucination. Leave me alone. Stop fucking tormenting me, alright?” Charles says.  
  
_“I’m sorry. One thing before I go. I wanted to apologise for being such an arsehole while I was staying with you. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you, and I really regret that. You tried so hard to help me and I fucked it up. I wanted to tell you so many times how much I appreciated what you did for me, but the words just wouldn’t come out. I was too angry at Chris. I’m sorry. You were my rock, the one thing tying me back to reality. You knew what it was like being an outcast. I cherished that more than I let on. But you seem like you’re in no position to talk, so maybe I’ll come back later when you’re… feeling better,”_ Craig says.  
  
“Shut up, Craig. Shut the fuck up! You’re as bad as they are! Leave me alone! Don’t come back again! I don’t care about any of this shit anymore!” Charles says, sliding back on his bed and curling up against the wall.  
  
Craig stands up, confused. What had brought this on? Charles was never like this.  
  
_“I’ll… seeya round,”_ Craig says, leaving the rock at Charles’ feet where he’d placed it before.

Water  
Andrew sits and watches, just like always. He sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. He hasn’t touched his instruments for months, not since Craig died. If he was expected to find solace in music, it didn’t help, despite Chas continually pushing him. Craig sits beside him, spiky shell in his hands.  
  
_“Play something.”_  
  
Andrew looks up, trying to work out if that voice is his own or someone else’s. “What?”  
  
_“Play something.”_  
  
“Who’s that? Chas, is that you?” Andrew says, confused by the soft voice he thinks he can hear that’s telling him to play something.  
  
_“It’s me, Craig. Play something for me.”_  
  
“Must be the wind or something,” Andrew decides.  
  
_“Listen. Play. Let it heal you.”_ Craig drops the shell into Andrew’s hands.  
  
“What the fuck?” Andrew isn’t expecting a shell to drop out of thin air. He picks up the shell to examine it, wondering where it came from and why it was given to him. “Chas, will you quit freaking me out now?” Andrew says, not amused.  
  
Chas sticks his head around the door, having heard Andrew talking to himself. “You alright, mate?”  
  
“You know anything about this?” Andrew says, showing him the shell.  
  
“It’s a shell, Andrew. What about it?” Chas comes into the room and sits beside Andrew, causing Craig to shift. He still doesn’t like being sat on, even though he can’t feel them and they can’t feel him.  
  
“It just – I swear, it just-”  
  
“Appeared out of nowhere?”  
  
“Yeah. How’d you do that?” Andrew looks at him, puzzled.  
  
“Dunno. Wasn’t me. Ask Craig.” Chas says, somewhat helpfully.  
  
“Craig’s dead.” Craig cringes at the bitterness in Andrew’s voice. Andrew sets the shell beside him, not wanting to hold it anymore.  
  
“If he gave that to you, he’s probably here. I hope I’m not sitting on him. Maybe he’s gone by now.”  
  
_“You’re sitting on my foot, Chassy. Tell Andrew to play something already. The music will help.”_  
  
“Did you hear him just then? He’s still here,” Chas says, turning to face Andrew, shifting on the bed. “Shit. Am I still sitting on you, Craig?”  
  
_“Not anymore. Chassy, make Andrew play again. It will help with the grief.”_ Craig gives up trying to make Andrew hear him.  
  
“He wants you to play, Andrew, and I agree. You once told me that a life without music is no life at all. Well, congratulations. You’ve had no life for the last six months. Has it made you any happier? Go on, go and play something! Stop being so fucking stubborn about it!” Chas says, shoving Andrew off the bed.  
  
Andrew’s knees crumble beneath him. “I can’t, Chas. I just… can’t. There’s no joy in it anymore,” he says.  
  
“Music isn’t just about joy, Andrew. You of all people should know that. Don’t you miss it at all?” Chas says, kneeling beside him. He rubs his back gently in a bid to comfort him.  
  
“Nothing will come out right. It’ll sound wrong,” Andrew says, making up excuses.  
  
“Stop being so hard on yourself. Stop being so afraid of something you know you can do. Now, get over there and play something!” Chas says, pulling Andrew to his feet and pushing him in the general direction of his instruments.  
  
Andrew’s fingers brush over his guitar. Craig walks over to him, standing beside him. _“Play something, Andrew,”_ Craig says into Andrew’s ear.  
  
Andrew flinches away from Craig even though he can’t see him. “Alright, alright, I can hear you already, Craig! Jesus, don’t do that!”  
_  
“Sorry, Andrew, but I wanted to make sure you could hear me. Now that I know you can, you can go play something for me. It really will help. Keep this up and you’ll never play anything again, and I can’t let that happen,”_ Craig says.  
  
“But, I don’t know what to play. There’s no music left in me,” Andrew says, fingers loosely curling around the neck of the guitar anyway.  
_  
“Bullshit. We both know that’s not true. Just play what comes to mind. I don’t care if it’s not a proper song. Just play something. Anything!”_ Craig says.  
  
Andrew takes a deep breath and picks up the guitar. It feels familiar in his hands now that he’s holding it. He glances at Chas before sitting back on the bed again. Craig sits beside him, waiting for him to play. Chas watches silently, glad that something has worked to make Andrew at least touch his music again.  
  
Andrew plays softly at first. Craig can’t pick out the tune, but he didn’t expect to. At least he’s playing at last. He knew he had to get Andrew to play to help him heal, but he hadn’t expected it to bring him his own peace either. He hadn’t expected to miss his music as much as he did. Hearing Andrew playing now sends reverberations through him that settle him in a way he hadn’t realised he needed.  
  
Craig lies back, letting the music drift around him. The notes are quietly mournful, not that Craig’s surprised. In spite of their melancholy, Craig finds them beautiful. He misses this, just lying back and listening to Andrew play. Used to do it a lot during the summer. They’d sit around in the evening, having a few beers, and Andrew would play for them and fill the hot summer air with music.  
  
That they are so divided now makes Craig’s heart break. He has to bring them back together. From what he’s heard about Chris, he’s going the same way he had gone, and he doesn’t want him to self-destruct like he did. Craig has a feeling that would make their rift irreparable if Chris too decided to kill himself. And then there’s Charles. Craig doesn’t know what actually happened between him and Julian that made Charles run away in the beginning, but there’s something incredibly tragic about Charles living so close to them now and refusing to see them at all. _I’ll have to go bug Julian to fix things between then once I’m done here. God, this music’s wonderful. He’s getting lost in it again, just like I hoped he would._  
  
The music had indeed changed from slow and melancholy to whimsical and melodic. Craig even picks out a few semblances of tunes he recognises. Craig feels no desire to leave as long as Andrew’s playing. He doesn’t notice how long Andrew plays for. He’s lost his sense of time since he died.  
  
The music rings in the air still when Andrew finally stops. It thrums with energy and life. Chas had been silent the whole time, a rare achievement.  
  
“Thank you, Craig. That… really did help,” Andrew murmurs.  
  
_“I told you it would help, silly. It was good to hear you play again. I missed it. One last thing before I go. Don’t fucking abandon Chris, you hear me? Go fix things now before he ends up doing something stupid like I did. I don’t want you guys being so divided, alright?”_ Craig says.  
  
“He was a jerk to you, Craig. You forgiven him, have you?” Andrew says.  
  
_“Mostly, yeah. Can’t you see what it’s doing to you all? Chris is off somewhere moping, you’re stuck in here refusing to see anyone but Chas, Julian’s all weird and Charles is fucking sitting in his room crying! I don’t care what it takes, but stop being such fucking shits to each other! This rift is not helping anyone. Get off your fucking high horses and go make up to each other again. You all need each other. Have you forgotten that you used to be friends once?”_ Craig says, exasperated at their continued bitching.  
  
“Craig has a point, you know,” Chas says quietly.  
  
“I know,” Andrew says and sighs.  
  
“So fix it.”  
  
“I will.”

Earth  
Chris stops at a small flower stand by the side of the road to buy a small bunch of flowers. He already has some beer and a bottle of vodka to share with Craig at his gravesite. The route to the cemetery is burnt into his brain now. He approaches the now familiar stall, finding the old Italian woman still manning it as usual. Craig follows curiously, coming to stand beside him at the stall, gazing at the lovely bright flowers on offer.  
  
“Back again, Chris? Is your persistence making you feel any better?” the woman says as she fetches the bunch of flowers Chris always buys, a combination of ambrosias, azaleas, bluebells, forget-me-nots, marigold, hyacinth, pink carnations and red and white roses, a combination the woman had suggested after Chris had first met her and had opened up to her why he was visiting Craig’s grave. She knows his schedule by now, knows when he’s coming, and makes sure there’s a bunch waiting for him.  
  
“A little, I think. I wish he was here to talk to. There’s so much I want to say to him now that I should’ve said a long time ago,” Chris says, giving her a grateful tip as he takes the flowers.  
  
“Let me tell you something, Chris. He’s always with you. He hears everything. He is not just in your heart. He is with you now. Always with you. Go make your peace at last. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped grieving?” the woman says.  
  
_“Yeah, Chris, isn’t it time you got a life or something?”_ Craig says, not worried if Chris can’t hear him.  
  
“I don’t feel I’ve atoned for what I did yet. The others blame him for going mad and causing us all this pain, but he wouldn’t have gone mad if it wasn’t for me. I’m the reason they’re divided, not him,” Chris says.  
  
“It seems you need to make up with your friends as well. Surely you still consider them your friends, no?” the woman says.  
  
“I miss them, but I can’t face them, Andrew especially. One big row and now he’s lost to me for good. He won’t take me back now. I shouldn’t be allowed to date anyone. It always ends in disaster,” Chris says with a heavy sigh.  
  
“Your isolation is your own fault, Chris. Just remember that. Now get out of here. I’m sure you want to visit your friend now,” the woman says, winking at Craig.  
  
_“You can see me?”_ Craig says, hanging back at the stall as Chris walks back to his car.  
  
“Yes I can. But you’d better hurry, he’s about to leave without you,” the woman says, indicating Chris revving the engine.  
  
_“Shit. Gotta go,”_ Craig says, sprinting back to the car, just managing to dive into the back seat before Chris tears off down the road towards the cemetery.  
  
Craig manages to sit up once the car hits the road. He contents himself with watching him. He knows where Chris is going. It’ll be weird seeing it. Craig’s never seen his grave before, never wanted to, in spite of being tied there for so long. He didn’t notice it during his funeral, so preoccupied with the tension apparent between his friends. Now Chris is making his usual pilgrimage there and Craig’s going with him.  
  
Craig follows behind Chris as they walk through the cemetery. When they get to Craig’s grave, Chris lays the flowers down gently and sits in front of it on the grass. Chris opens a can of beer and pours it onto the grave. Craig sits down beside him, gazing at him.  
  
“Hope the afterlife’s treating you right, mate,” Chris murmurs.  
  
_“Yeah, could be worse. You gonna hand over that vodka? That beer’s shit,”_ Craig says, not sure if Chris can hear him.  
  
“Craig? That you?” Chris is surprised to hear his voice sharp and clear as if he’s sitting right beside him.  
  
_“Who do you think it is? I don’t hang around other people’s graves. That would be creepy. How loudly can you hear me?”_ Craig says. He reaches for the bottle of vodka and discovers he can’t touch it. _Bugger. Want vodka now._ Chris can’t see him pouting outrageously at the bottle.  
  
“Seriously? It’s like you’re still here, like normal. You really are sitting beside me, aren’t you?” Chris turns and is shocked to see a translucent Craig sitting beside him on the grass, staring at the vodka with an annoyed look on his face. “Shit. Am I supposed to be able to see you?”  
_  
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to see me, but I hoped I’d be louder right here as opposed to further away. You can see me? How do I look?”_ Craig says, twirling a finger absentmindedly around the grass, which remains unmoved by his action.  
  
“Kinda transparent. You really want that vodka, don’t you? I brought your favourite,” Chris said, noticing him still staring at the bottle.  
  
_“Vodka good. Haven’t had a decent drink since I died. You keep bringing me shit beer when what I really want is vodka. I thought you knew me better than that.”_  
  
“Sorry. I promise it’ll be vodka from now on,” Chris said, twisting the lid off the vodka and taking a swig. “It’s really weird talking to you like this, you know,” he says, pouring some of the vodka onto his grave so Craig can get at it.  
  
_“Finally. Something decent,”_ Craig says as he gets to touch his vodka at last. He takes a long swig, needing to sate his desire for his favourite vodka. _“You know what sucks about being dead? I can’t fucking get pissed. Kinda ruins the point of drinking, really.”  
_  
“And yet you ask me to bring you vodka anyway,” Chris says with an amused smile.  
  
_“Not my fault I miss drinking.”_ Craig pauses. _“It’s nice that you come and visit so often, you know.”_  
  
“I feel I owe it to you somehow. Besides, I need to make amends for being such a jerk to you. If I’d had any sense of decency, I’d have handled the whole thing so much better than I did. The others don’t come. They don’t want to. Although I did see Jules here last week,” Chris says.  
_  
“Well, it is kinda creepy and obsessive to be visiting a grave so often, you know. Interesting combination of flowers there, Taylor. Not your normal funeral bunch, is it?”_ Craig says.  
  
“Oh, the woman at the flower stall suggested them to me. She does them up for me. Said the right flowers would tell you everything I couldn’t say to you. I don’t know, I didn’t buy that part, but it’s nice of her. She’s lovely, albeit a little odd. Says she’s some sort of medium or psychic or something,” Chris says.  
_  
“She saw me just then, when you bought the flowers. I don’t know what the flowers mean or anything. I might be dead, but that generally doesn’t make you some sort of know-it-all,”_ Craig says.  
  
“Well, the white roses are for purity, the red for love, bluebells for humility, forget-me-nots are for true love and good memories, marigold’s for grief, azaleas mean take care of yourself, hyacinth is please forgive me, pink carnations say always on my mind, and ambrosias… ambrosias mean your love is returned. It’s silly folklore stuff, but still. I thought it was kinda sweet,” Chris says.  
_  
“‘Your love is returned’, Taylor? I thought you only loved Andrew,”_ Craig says.  
  
“I do, well, I did, but… I’ve had a lot of time to think. For years, after we got together, I was too scared to admit I could love anyone else but Andrew. But the more time I spent with you, the more I realised I thought about Andrew less and less. What started out as a ploy to make Andrew jealous… That idea was forgotten a few months in, but I hated admitting I was falling for you, really falling for you. Not even the scar on my chest helped. Loyalty is not the same as love, and I wanted Andrew intellectually because I was scared of being not in control, of being in a serious relationship where I wasn’t continually subjugated and leashed and controlled, as much as I enjoyed that. You made me think, you woke me up from Andrew’s hold on me. You forced me to realise that not all relationships are one-way, that I had to fight to keep you, even if I didn’t manage to do that very well. I hate that I was never brave enough to ever tell you this, because now you’re dead, I can never have you. I don’t deserve you, never did. Maybe I’ll have atoned for this by the time I die,” Chris says sadly, refusing to look at Craig.  
  
_“Chris, mate, I think you’re being a little too hard on yourself, here. Lighten up. I stopped being mad at you a while back,”_ Craig says. He pauses for a moment to drink more vodka. _“You being honest with me here? Because if you’re gonna fuck with me now that I’m dead, I’ll-”_  
  
“Shit, Craig, I’m not that heartless. Everything I just said was true. Is true. I was so scared of telling you because I wasn’t sure how you’d react, finding out that I didn’t love you at first, but now I do. That’s the same as telling someone you love them, then telling them later on that you never did. You’d have called me on my hypocrisy and probably still gone mad,” Chris says.  
  
_“If you’d told me that you really loved me, I wouldn’t have hated you. That was all I was craving from you, something to show you really cared about me. Why didn’t you get that?”_ Craig says.  
  
“Because I’m a moron who doesn’t deserve anyone, least of all you. I’m sorry, Craig. Please forgive me,” Chris says, looking down at the ground.  
  
Craig doesn’t reply. Instead, he musters all his concentration on making himself solid. Chris flinches as Craig rests a cold hand on his arm.  
  
“What the-?” Chris turns to find Craig looking very much alive. He’s not translucent anymore.  
  
“Shh. This can’t last long, but I need to touch you one last time,” Craig says.  
  
“Shit. You’re so cold,” Chris says, chills flitting across his skin.  
  
_“Comes with being dead, Taylor. Shut up and kiss me,”_ Craig says, reaching out to cup Chris’ cheek with one hand, urging him to come closer.  
  
Chris resists for a moment before giving in, letting Craig’s cold lips press against his own. Chris flinches as Craig presses his tongue against his lips. Chris thinks this is the weirdest kiss he’s ever had. In spite of Craig’s cold skin, there’s so much warmth coming from what he’s doing. Chris barely notices the iciness beneath his palm as he wraps his arms around Craig’s neck. This is all Chris needs from Craig to know he’s been forgiven.  
  
Chris shivers as Craig pulls away, leaning their foreheads together for a second before Craig can’t sustain being solid anymore.  
  
_“Get on with your life. Don’t waste your time pining for a dead man. A visit every now and then wouldn’t go amiss, but it’s time to go back to them and stop grieving, alright? Go and be friends again.”_  
  
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right there.”

Infinity  
The smell of smoke alerts Chas and Andrew to the fact that something is happening in the back yard that evening. It doesn’t smell like the sort of smell that indicates Something Important is burning down, but still. Someone or something is burning in the backyard, and it’s always a good idea to check these things out. Turning the porch light on, there is indeed a fire in the backyard, set in a metal drum. What surprises them more is Chris standing beside it, warming his hands. The air isn’t all that cold, but neither is it hot and humid either.  
  
“You alright, Chris? What are you doing out here?” Chas says. Andrew stays back, refusing to look at Chris.  
  
Chris turns to see them. “Oh, hi guys. Just thought… We need to end all this shit. I’m tired of us fighting. I’m tired of the tension. Don’t you think it’s time we sorted this shit out?”  
  
Chas grabs Andrew’s arm, bringing him forward. “Didn’t you say you were going to fix things?” he whispers harshly.  
  
“Do I have to?” Andrew whispers back just as harshly.  
  
“Yes. Go and sort things out. I’ll go get the others,” Chas whispers, pushing Andrew towards Chris. “I’ll get the others, hey, Chris?” Chas says to Chris.  
  
“Yeah, that’d be good. Don’t forget Charles. He should be here too,” Chris says.  
  
“Don’t worry, Charles was first on my list,” Chas says. “Be right back. Don’t you go killing each other, you hear?” Chas glares at them both before leaving.  
  
Chris warms his hands by the fire. Andrew hangs back, scuffing his shoe against the grass, trying to dig a clump of grass up, eyes staring downwards and hands shoved tightly into his jeans pockets. Craig’s hanging back as well, forbidden from talking to them again but allowed to watch what unfolds. He hides in the shadow of the surrounding bushes even though he knows they can’t see him.  
  
_Why aren’t you talking, Chris? Say something to him, for fuck’s sake! Andrew, quit sulking. You promised. Hey, why can’t I talk to them again anyway? Afraid I’ll fuck things up?_ Shut up. Stop ruining my word count. _Bitch. I’m the star here. I say what goes. Let me speak to them. If I don’t prod them along, they won’t get anything done!_ Alright, fine, but it’s not two-way, alright? You can influence them, but they can’t hear you out loud, alright? They can just hear you in their heads. Fine. It’ll have to do.  
  
Craig emerges out of the shadows and walks up to Chris, looking across the fire at Andrew standing there sullen and cold, turned away from him.  
_  
Will you fucking go and talk to Andrew already? Or would you rather make up with everyone else around? God you’re a dickhead, Chris._  
  
Chris shifts on his feet and glances up at Andrew. “Andrew, I-”  
  
“What?” Andrew snaps, hugging his arms close to his chest.  
  
“You cold, mate? Come closer if you like. Wouldn’t want you getting cold. I can run inside and grab something-”  
  
“Shut up, Chris. I’m fine, alright?” Andrew mutters.  
  
Chris sighs heavily. “Look, Andrew, I’m sorry for-”  
  
“I don’t care, alright?” Andrew says.  
  
Craig walks across to Andrew, stopping in front of him. _What the fuck is your problem? Remember what I told you? Don’t fucking isolate him! Don’t let him turn out like me! Stop with the angst and get over it, alright? Now get over there and start talking to him, for fuck’s sake!_  
  
Andrew glances over at Chris as a sudden burst of cold air sweeps through the garden, causing Andrew to shiver. With some reluctance, Andrew approaches the fire, appreciative of its warmth as he looks anywhere but at Chris. An uncomfortable silence creeps over them.  
  
“What’s all this about anyway? Since when are you talking to me again?” Andrew says, looking up at him at last.  
  
“Since Craig turned up for a visit. We… sorted things out. He told me things I needed to hear and some I didn’t want to hear. He saw you too, didn’t he?” Chris says.  
  
“Yeah, he did. I… He made me play for him. It felt – nice. Craig told me not to isolate you, didn’t want you turning out how he did. Just – answer me one thing, alright?” Andrew says.  
  
“Sure, anything,” Chris says.  
  
“You fell in love with Craig, didn’t you? I’m not mad, I’m just – I want to know for sure,” Andrew says.  
  
Chris swallows. “I-I didn’t mean to, it just happened. I’m sorry. I fucked up more than he did. I forgot you, even though I was too afraid to admit how much I loved him. Can you forgive me?” Chris says, walking over to Andrew and kneeling at his feet.  
  
Andrew glances down at him, disgusted at his actions. “Get up. I haven’t been your master for a very long time. You bow to no one, least of all me,” he says.  
  
Chris gets to his feet, reluctant to meet Andrew’s eyes. “How long have you known? How did you know?”  
  
“I didn’t. I just guessed. There was something in your eyes, I’m not sure what. You looked at me once, a few months back. That told me all I needed to know. But then I never thought your heart was really in it anyway. I was a distraction, nothing more. What we had died a long time ago,” Andrew says softly, lifting Chris’ chin up to meet his eyes. He cups his cheek softly, looking at him properly for the first time in nearly 6 months.  
  
“I’m sorry. I fucked you over too. I’m such a jerk,” Chris murmurs.  
  
“Do I still mean something to you? Or are you lost to me for good?” Andrew says.  
  
“I-I don’t know. I figured you were with Chas now so I… let you go. But we should be friends again. I think we owe it to Craig to fucking end this mess now before things just become too difficult to fix,” Chris says.  
  
“I suppose so. It’s weird talking to you now. We haven’t spoken this much for months. I did miss you, but every time I tried to reach out to you, you shoved me away and ran off. Your attachment to Craig hurt, you know. Like I wasn’t involved in that as well. He fucking shot me, remember? But no, you claimed a monopoly on grieving for Craig, as if you knew him so much better than everyone else did. That’s an insult to the rest of us who have known him all these years too,” Andrew says.  
  
“I won’t be going back, not for some time. Sitting in front of a gravestone won’t bring him back to life. I’m sorry for being so stupid. Can we… can we move on now? I don’t want this tension any longer. I miss talking to you. I miss listening to you play. I miss Chas. I fucking miss you all. It’s just taken me this long to work all this shit out, and I’m sorry for turning into Craig these last few months. I needed to know he’d forgiven me, and I didn’t know that til tonight,” Chris says.  
  
Andrew wraps an arm around Chris’ shoulders, surprised at how easily he’d fallen back into conversation with him. Perhaps all he’d needed to do the whole time was just talk to him again. “Don’t worry about it, doll. We all had our own grief to get through in our own way. I hated what you did to Craig, but I’m sure you already know that. I suppose I’ll never forget him though. Fucked up my hip joint, he did. I won’t walk properly again. At least I’ve discovered it doesn’t hurt to play as much as I feared it would. At least he only got your leg. You’re perfectly fine. He had to go and shoot my hip, didn’t he? Little bastard.” Andrew sighs. “Oh, look, Chas’s brought the cavalry. You got any beer? This could do with some beer,” he says as Chas, Dom, Julian and Charles come out of the house and down to meet them.  
  
“Yeah, in the beer fridge. I picked some up on the way home,” Chris says.  
  
“Be right back. Beer, guys?” Andrew asks, turning to face the others as they come up and huddle around the fire as well.  
  
“Not for me,” Chas says. “How bout you guys?”  
  
“Yeah, go on. Charles?” Julian says.  
  
“Yeah, sure. If it makes things easier, why the fuck not?” Charles says bitterly.  
  
“Not for me, Andrew,” Dom says.  
  
“Chris?” Andrew says.  
  
“Yeah, I could use a drink,” Chris says. _You’ve already been drinking today! We shared some fucking awesome vodka! What do you need to drink more for?_ He can’t answer you, you know. _I know that. I was just saying. Geez, must you question everything I do? Shut up and finish this already. I want to get to my ascension._ You’re just in it for the wings. _Don’t you forget it._  
  
They stand around in silence while they wait for Andrew to return with the drinks. No one looks at each other. Charles is agitated. Julian falls in close with Dom. Chas glances over at Chris every now and then. Craig watches, staring at the flames. Drinks are handed out in silence as Andrew comes to stand between Chris and Chas.  
  
_Stubborn shits. Get the fuck on with it. We haven’t got long, you know._  
  
“So what the fuck am I doing here anyway? I was quite convinced you never wanted to see me again,” Charles snaps, breaking the oppressive silence.  
  
“The fighting has to stop. As if grieving for Craig wasn’t enough, we had to add in all this bitching as well. We should’ve banded together after Craig died, but we tore each other to pieces instead. Craig’s been around, have you noticed? I think we need to close this rift now before it becomes irreparable. Agreed?” Chris says.  
  
“He’s got a point, you know. There’s no good reason Charles has to be shut away in his place because you can’t bring yourself to forgive him, Julian. For fuck’s sake, whatever happened between you guys, it ends now, alright? This is not what Craig wanted, you know, for us to be at each other’s throats all the fucking time. Aren’t you sick of it after all these months?” Chas says.  
  
Craig walks over to Julian, standing in front of him. _Julian, I didn’t have time to tell you before, but don’t leave Charles alone. This pettiness proves nothing. Get over your ego and forgive him already. He’s miserable. He’s earned your forgiveness several times over. Let it go._  
  
Julian sighs heavily. “Charles? I’m sorry. I suppose I have been petty about this. You did look after Craig all on your own when we couldn’t handle him and he ran away. It’s high time we acknowledged that. Don’t beat yourself up too hard though. He was already messed up before he got to you. You couldn’t have saved him, and we were naïve to expect that of you. And what happened before… is in the past. Where it should be. You’re welcome to move back in with us if you want. I should’ve been better to you than I was. I’m sorry,” he says, looking at Charles.  
  
“Yeah, you should’ve been better to me alright. I’m sorry, I just – you were always so cold to me and the more I tried to gain your forgiveness the more you seemed to pull away from me. I just wanted you to love me again. Can you do that?” Charles says curtly.  
  
“Yeah, yeah I can. Come here. I missed you,” Julian says, opening his arms to him.  
  
Charles cautiously lets Julian hug him, still hurt from their betrayal to fully trust them yet. Gradually, Charles holds him back, not ecstatically happy, but satisfied that he’s finally been forgiven. The rest can wait.  
  
Silence falls over them again, but it’s a different silence as the built-up tension is finally released. Chris glances over at Andrew and sees him clutching onto Chas’ hand tightly. Julian hugs Charles close to him. Everyone stares at the flames transfixed, waiting for someone to break the silence.  
  
Craig watches. So it isn’t quite the ‘happy families’ scenario he’d hoped for, but at least they’re all in the same place at the same time and aren’t arguing with each other. It may have to do. If they can manage this, they can bring their hearts closer together again. Time for Craig to leave. He already knows from the invisible wings rising up behind him. He walks up to Chris and rests a hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze.  
  
“You’re going?” Chris murmurs, able to see Craig’s dusky silhouette before him and the cold hand on his shoulder.  
  
_“It’s time. Look after yourself. Make sure they all stop fighting or I’ll have to come back and kick their arses, okay?”_ Craig says, stretching his wings.  
  
“Who’s there, Chris?” Andrew says.  
  
“It’s Craig. He’s leaving at last. Be at peace, mate. We miss you, and we love you. Don’t go causing trouble now, you hear?” Chris says.  
  
_“What? Do I look like a troublemaker? I’ll see you round. Take care. Love you guys too,”_ Craig says.  
  
Craig lays a hand over Chris’ heart before vanishing, flying off into the afterlife. He soars around the backyard a few times, watching Chris craning his neck to catch sight of him. Craig comes to a stop and blows him a kiss before turning tail and flying off. _Talk about an exit. Now that was good, was it not?_ If you say so. _You’re so difficult to please._  
  
Chris smiles, feels a kiss on his cheek. “Goodbye, mate.”


End file.
